


Prompt #40

by Ambros



Series: Tumblr Prompts [41]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Children can be mean, Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: - Max's eyes are bright when he whispers: “But I have horns.”, like he's just found out that he's not supposed to, and Alec has just decided he's going to kick a nine year old's ass for this.





	Prompt #40

**Author's Note:**

> wirtanzenimregen prompted: "I'd love to read anything about Magnus' cat eyes if you want to write it! Not specific at all lol, do what you want with it", so I took her literally and I wrote a completely different thing

“Wait – _what_?”

“Yeah, man, I'm sorry.”, Alec can almost see how Simon is scratching the back of his head, “You need to come pick them up, it's the rules.”

“I – ”, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose for a second; his desk is a mess and he'll have to bring some of his work home if he wants to have any time off in the foreseeable future. “Yeah, alright, I'll be there in ten minutes.”

*

Simon has no idea what happened and neither Max nor Rafe have said a word since Alec's picked them up from Simon's all inclusive daycare, but Rafe has a swollen knuckle and Max looks like he's been crying and no-one will talk and Alec is so close to a panic attack his hands are shaking.

Max runs to his room without a word and Rafe actually stops Alec from following him, plants himself in front of him, hands balled in little fists against his thighs: “I think you should wait,” he says, and Alec's chest aches in remembering that Rafe has already seen too much, has already lost most of his childhood, and sometimes he'll do this, he'll act like an adult and Alec doesn't always know how to deal with it.

He crouches down and Rafe is now taller than him, all of his eleven years. “Did something happen with the other children?”

Rafe hesitates before nodding. Alec sighs. “You won't tell me what happened?”, he asks, but he already knows.

Rafe shakes his head: “Max would get mad if I told you.”

“Okay,” Alec takes a deep breath, brushes his face with his hand, “Okay,” he repeats, trying to organize his thoughts; he stands up again: “Let's put some ice on your hand. Can you move it?”

Rafe cautiously flexes his fingers, wincing a bit; he nods.

Alec sighs in relief: “At least it's not broken.”

He gets some ice from the refrigerator and wraps it in a towel before pressing it gently on Rafe's bruised knuckle. He takes a deep breath before asking: “You punched someone, didn't you.”

Rafe nods.

“Because of Max?”

Rafe nods again.

“Do you think I could go talk to him now?”

Rafe seems to think about it for a moment, head bent on his shoulder: “I think Magnus could help.”

It hurts and it doesn't, and Alec nods.

*

Magnus comes home as soon as Alec calls him.

“Rafe said it'd be better if you were here and I didn't want to leave Max in his room for too long when I don't know what's going on,” Alec says, breathing fast, and Magnus gently places his hands on his cheeks, breathes slowly, invites him to do the same: “You did everything perfectly. You know if something had been seriously wrong Rafe would have told you. Now let's go find out what happened and then we can decide what to do now that Rafe is punching people.”

Alec closes his eyes for a brief moment at the reminder, but he takes a deep breath and nods.

Rafe is in his brother's room – he usually is –, on Max's bed, he's watching with exaggerated fascination as Max conjures flowers between his fingers. He looks up as soon as Magnus and Alec enter the room, and Alec doesn't miss the way Max's expression turns into a frown.

Rafe slips off the bed without a word and quickly nods at his brother, like they've decided on something that's now going to happen, and Alec raffles his hair as he leaves the room. Rafe sends him a quick smile. He doesn't have the ice wrapped around his hand anymore – in fact, his knuckle isn't even bruised anymore, and Alec suspects Max has something to do with it.

There is silence after the door closes behind Rafe, for long enough that Alec starts to wonder if maybe they should say something, but then Max says: “Can you teach me how to change my skin?” without looking at them, and Alec's heart stops painfully in his chest.

He can see Magnus is still, so very still beside him.

“And I want to hide my horns,” Max adds, voice small, one of his hands reaching instinctively for the little white horn near his temple, “But I want to keep the hair,” he says, “It looks cool.”

Magnus is the first one to take a step forward, sit gently on the bed: “Why do you want to hide them, sweetpea?” he asks, voice soft.

Max keeps his eyes on his hands, but something breaks in Alec's chest when he sees a tear running down his cheek, when he hears the little shiver in his voice as he says, whispers: “Lucas Martel said I look like a freak.”

Alec's first instinct is to punch the kid himself. But he can see the stillness in Magnus' back, the hurt running down his skin, he feels it on himself and knows that it must hurt ten times more for Magnus. He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but Max's gaze is sudden and sharp on Magnus: “You cover your eyes,” he says, like it's proof and accusation at the same time, and Alec feels his heart break, doesn't know how to protect them both, doesn't know what to say. He takes a step forward and place his hand on Magnus' shoulder, squeezes, wishes he could take away his pain.

Magnus' shoulder shakes almost imperceptibly when he says: “Come here.”

Max crawls in Magnus' lap, curls up there, still hurt, and Alec sits in front of Magnus, searches his face and finds sadness and anger and determination; he places his hand on his knee.

Magnus' eyes turn golden as he brushes his fingers against his son's back. “You are right,” he says, brushing his palm against Max's cheek to wipe away his tears, “I cover my eyes because someone said something very mean to me once, and I haven't been able to forget it.”

“Like Lucas Martel,” Max mutters, and Magnus' fingers slip in Alec's on his knee.

“Like Lucas Martel,” Magnus confirms, “And I never had the chance to show that person that they were wrong about me, that just because I look different it doesn't mean that I am a – freak.”

Alec tightens his hold on Magnus' fingers, behind Max's back. He hears the slight tremor in his voice, his hesitation before the word _freak._ He knows what he was about to say was _monster_.

“But I never did anything to him.”

Magnus closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath: “I know, sweetheart.”

“Some people just don't understand what's different from them,” Alec says, whispers, “Because we live in a very imperfect world, where different is often associated with _wrong_. But they are never right, okay? Especially about you. If they think like that, _they_ are wrong. Not you. Never you.”

Max's eyes are bright when he whispers: “But I have _horns_.”, like he's just found out that he's not supposed to, and Alec has just decided he's going to kick a nine year old's ass for this.

“And they are the coolest freaking horns I've ever seen,” Alec says, with as much strength as he can, and Max giggles and Alec feels like a rock has just been moved from his chest.

“You and your dad,” he says, glances at Magnus and his bright eyes, “are perfect just the way you are. If anyone ever tells you otherwise, they don't even deserve to be listened to,” he brushes his fingers against Max's cheek, “And they definitely don't deserve your tears. Okay?”

Max's voice is still small but less shaky when he says: “Okay.” He seems to gather himself for a moment and then he throws his arms around Magnus' neck, burying his nose in Magnus' throat; he whispers there: “I like your eyes a lot.”

Magnus closes his eyes, hard, Alec sees a tear catching the light on his cheek: “And I like your skin and your horns and your hair and your everything, sweetpea.”

*

Alec crouches down in front of Rafe: “You know punching people is wrong, right?”

Rafe is very close to rolling his eyes, Alec can see it. But he doesn't. “I know.”

“And you won't do it again.”

Rafe bites his lip: “And I won't do it again.”

“Because …?”

“Because violence is never the answer,” Rafe says, rolling his eyes this time.

Alec shakes his head with a smile. He hugs him as Rafe pretends to protest.

  



End file.
